


Aela's Revenge

by EvilFuzzy9



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/M, Gladiators, Mind Break, Misogyny, Rape, Watersports, ntr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-09
Updated: 2016-07-09
Packaged: 2018-07-22 13:20:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7440781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EvilFuzzy9/pseuds/EvilFuzzy9
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For seven years she has trained, preparing for this fight. It is a matter of honor and revenge for her mother. But is she truly ready for this? </p><p>[rape, ntr, misogyny, ryona, mindbreak, watersports]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aela's Revenge

Raucous cheers erupted from the audience. Jeering men and hooting women called out many diverse things as the two combatants walked into the arena. Bets were being called out among friends, or formalized on paper with grim, shady folk.

The battlegrounds were dry and sunbaked under the open sky. Only a few insubstantial wisps of cloud could be seen in the endless blue expanse overhead. The sun beat down fiercely on the backs of the two competitors. Neither was extensively armored. Indeed, their torsos were primarily bare.

One was an olive-skinned young man with short but shaggy raven hair. He had a handsome face and well shaped musculature, though his body bore a number of scars. His eyes were hard, and his lips twisted themselves into a fierce smile as he surveyed his opponent. What armor he had covered mostly his arms and legs, splint maille to guard his limbs. His chest was bare, save for the straps that held the sheath of his sword to his back.

"Zeltor, Zeltor!" cried the audience, many loudly proclaiming their support for the defending champion, and many others screaming bitterly that they hoped to see his guts spilled onto the earth.

Opposite him was a woman, fairer of skin than Zeltor, with a voluptuous form and long, crimson hair. She bore an ornate kite shield with the heraldic charge of a wealthy family, and a gilt-handled claymore of exceptional craft. The black blade of her sword was etched with runes of victory. Her armor also was of superior quality to Zeltor's, pure tempered steel with a golden sheen rather than simple iron-on-leather, and also covering more of her body overall.

She was a very beautiful woman, buxom and attractive, yet this did not make her seem less dangerous. It could not be doubted that beneath the armor which clad her arms and legs were toned, wiry limbs driven by a musculature effectively equal to her male foe's. Certainly her abs were nearly as sharply defined as Zeltor's, and in stature she was only a few inches shorter.

"Aela! Aela!" the crowd cheered her name. She was well-liked by the masses, for all that the shows she gave were usually less bloody than those of the other gladiators. Noble of nature and compassionate, she was known for treating her opponents mercifully and humanely.

In all sincerity, of the two combatants in the arena, while Zeltor aroused a greater tumult, Aela was more commonly beloved.

"I see the organizers have sent another bitch after me," Zeltor drawled, idly grasping the hilt of his sword. "You're not half bad-looking, though. Maybe they want me to make a show of your defeat."

He leered at Aela, an expression that made his face seem wild and bestial, if not less handsome.

"No one has _sent_ me," snarled Aela in reply, her own face betraying a scarcely contained hatred. "I was the one who arranged for this battle. I've come for you at last, disgracer of women!"

Zeltor laughed, maintaining a ready stance.

"Who are you, and what quarrel have you got with me?" he said derisively. "And what's all that about disgrace? I only do what _ought_ to be done to women."

Aela snarled.

"You know my name, Zeltor," said she. "And you know that I come from a noble family. Is that not enough for you to guess?"

"I don't care about whores' names," Zeltor replied. "I'll call them whatever I feel like."

"Ellea," Aela said. "That was the name of my mother, whom you beat and raped!"

"Oh, _her_ ," said Zeltor, grinning. He drew his sword. "I remember now. The dumb sow was squealing about duels of honor and repaying insult with death, or some nonsense like that. I put her in her place, though." He smiled more widely. "I'll do the same for you, too, unless you'd rather die."

At that very instant, the signal was given for the fight to commence. With a furious shout Aela bounded forth.

Zeltor drew his sword and met her with a laugh.

They fought.

She swung overhead, and he intercepted with a vertical stroke. She thrust for his breast and he knocked her sword aside, striking it on the flat. Aela's furious assault seemed wasted, her attempts to slash and stab Zeltor all skillfully thwarted. After a brief defense, once the speed and ferocity Aela's attack began to lessen, he retaliated.

Zeltor's movements were brutally efficients. He bound Aela's sword and hooked her shield. She was overmastered by anger, and her moves were reckless. Zeltor maintained his cool, in contrast, and he effortlessly took his challenger apart.

He got inside her stance and beat back her blade, smiting the flat near the guard and wrenching it nearly right out of Aela's grasp. At the same time he grabbed the rim of her shield and lashed out with his foot, a sweeping kick that landed on the redhead's shins and sent her toppling to the ground. She tightened her grip on her sword and raised it in an attempt at defiance, but from that low position her leverage was weak, and he disarmed her with a master stroke.

Aela's sword flew several feet away from her, and Zeltor's foot came down hard on her belly. He stood atop her and held her to the ground. Coughing she raised her shield to try and ward off any finishing blow, but Zeltor swung with the full strength of his arm and clove the shield in half. He wrenched the ruined thing then out of Aela's grasp and cast it in the opposite direction of her sword.

From the spectators came an undistinguishable tumult of cheers and jeers and curses. Eadwine husband of Aela watched concernedly as his wife was pinned and disarmed.

Zeltor ignored the cries of the audience, uncaring of whether they praised or maligned him. His eyes were focused on Aela, her heaving armor-cupped bosom, her flushed and sweating face, her broad hips and vibrant hair. Sneering, he kicked the woman in the side and forced her to roll over.

She wheezed and tried frantically to rise from where she lay on her belly, her fighting spirit shaken but not snuffed. Not yet. Aela was onto her hands and knees when Zeltor intervened.

Stooping over her in a single motion he jabbed the tip of his sword to her back, just hard enough to make it clear that he could drive it in and kill her at any moment, if he so wished. Aela froze, shivering, and the anger in her belly flared hotter than ever, fueled by shame.

Was this all it amounted to, in the end?

Aela she felt Zeltor's other hand clap onto the back of her head, and her face was driven into the dirt. A moment later her breastplates were torn away, and she felt her tits drop pendulously, a not insubstantial weight dangling from her chest. Then the bottom of her outfit was stripped away, too, thong ripped out from between the armor which clad her thighs on down, exposing her nether regions to the air.

Into her eyes sprung the hot, shameful sting of tears.

_All of my training... every fight I've won up to this point..._

A calloused hand smote Aela's backside. Round, creamy buttocks smarted and sprang back from the blow, her body rocking, tits swaying, face pressing harder still into the dirt. She tasted the soil in her mouth, and her body shuddered with humiliated sobs.

The point of Zeltor's sword pressed itself infinitesimally harder into Aela's back, reminding her not to try anything foolish. She dared not attempt to rise or recover herself any further.

 _Was all of it just so I would end up subjected to the same fate as my mother?_ she thought miserably. _Beaten, raped, and humiliated before hundreds by this savage, hateful brute...?_

"I remember now," spoke Zeltor, intruding on Aela's rueful inner monologue with a trace of harsh laughter in his voice. His gaze burned on her bottom. "This ass is familiar. I recognize the look of it. Like mother like daughter, I guess. She was disappointing, too. Feisty tempered on the outside, but folding real easy once she'd been slapped around and fucked a bit."

Aela gnashed her teeth, biting through the dirt in her fury.

"You said her name was Ellea, right?" Zeltor continued, sneering audibly. "A pretty name, maybe, but these days she answers to _'bitch'_ and _'toilet'_. I think those are much more fitting for her. It'll be the same for you, judging by the look of your cunt. Wet yourself, haven't you?"

Aela bit back the curse she longed to spit out, fear of death mastering her pride for the time being. No matter how much she wished to defy this bastard and defend her mother's honor, she could do nothing. It was humiliating, and all the more when she thought of her husband in the stands.

Her breast throbbed with an aching heart, teats soft and ponderous swaying minutely. Silently she prayed that Eadwine would suffer no shame from whatever disgrace might hereafter befall her. He was a good man, and even if not especially handsome or virile, he had always dealt kindly and honorably with her. She loved and respected him dearly.

But Zeltor broke Aela's train of thought, grabbing her by the hair and yanking her head back up. Forcibly he cupped her chin and turned her about to face him.

All at once, a pungent odor invaded Aela's nostrils. She gagged and flushed at the intensity of it. And with growing revulsion she stared at a large, dark, scarred cock. It was Zeltor's cock, as marked as the rest of him by years of fierce battle. The size of it amazed Aela, even as the fact of its naked presence so close filled her with a horrible knowledge of what was to come.

The last foolish, desperate dregs of hope withered in her belly. Zeltor was going to rape her. She could no longer ignore this fact or pretend otherwise. She was looking at the very thing which had defiled her mother seven years ago, and all the time she had spent endlessly training to avenge her ever since seemed now vain and meaningless.

Aela shuddered, feeling sick with apprehension.

"Well, bitch?" said Zeltor. "Will you join the old cow, or do I have to _teach_ you your place the same as I taught her?"

Aela could no longer restrain her anger, her disgust, her hatred for this beastly, leering degenerate of a man. She spat contemptuously at his feet, glaring.

Zeltor's response was immediate.

He slapped her.

 _Hard_.

Aela tasted fire and copper, and a tooth wiggled loosely in her mouth. Her cheek stung blindingly, and her insides twisted at the speed and force of his strike. His were hands that had taken a hundred lives in pitched combat, strong and hard as though they were made of steel.

"Hmph. There's nothing I hate more than a woman who doesn't know her place," said Zeltor scornfully. "It'd be a shame to leave this fine ass of yours to the maggots, but I _will_ kill you if you don't learn respect. Are you proud of your looks? You must be, flaunting your whore body in that joke of a thing you called armor. I could've gutted you and ended all this as soon as you came at me. Would you have preferred that?"

"Damn you," Aela hissed. Her voice was cracking and tremulous, and hot tears streaked the dirt on her cheeks.

Again, Zeltor slapped her.

"Keep that up, you stupid cunt, and I'll have to ruin you. Got it? Behave if you don't want to damage those good looks of yours. Your face won't look half so pretty if I have to leave it bruised, swollen, and smeared with blood. I don't mind smacking you around or beating you 'til you're ugly, so long as you've still got holes to fuck and tits to suck. So I'll give you one last chance to show the respect you owe me, as a woman to a man."

Saying this, he gripped his dick, which was only half flaccid. He raised it up and aimed at Aela's face, squaring his stance and tensing firm thighs.

"Say _ah_ ," he commanded in a hard voice.

Her face burning shamefully, feeling the eyes of the crowded arena stands glued onto her and Zeltor, Aela slowly and reluctantly opened her mouth. In the back of her mind she planned bitterly to bite through his cock, expecting that he would make her fellate him.

She thought wrong.

Zeltor did not shove his dick into Aela's mouth, nor instruct her to service it. Instead he grunted and _pushed_ and caused a sudden stream of stinking, yellow fluid to gush from his penile meatus. It was a hot, powerful spray that caught Aela straight in the face before she could even think to react.

The man's piss splashed obscenely over Aela's face, and she was paralyzed by an equal mix of shock and revulsion. Zeltor's cock seemed to twitch and swell as he disgorged the contents of his bladder, apparently hardening with his pleasure at pissing on the redhead, marking her face as a great, vicious hound might mark its territory.

It got in her eyes, where it stung. It got up her nose and made her retch. It got into her mouth, which hung open still at his command, making her shudder and gag and choke and splutter. Some more of it splashed down her chin and onto her tits. It steamed and stank and tasted utterly vile. Aela felt shamed beyond description, stained and marred by this sudden, vulgar act.

Finally, mercifully, the flow of urine dwindled away into a trickle, then cut off at last. It had gone on for well over a minute, and Aela looked half drowned, her face sopping and ruddy from Zeltor's piss. Her head dropped with the weight of this disgrace, and she slumped much shaken to the ground.

"That's better," said Zeltor. "I might make a proper woman out of you yet."

Aela did not feel the strength to resist when he then shoved her onto her back. In a daze, still trying to reconcile what had just happened with any sense of self respect or honor that still resided in her spirit, she stared blankly at Zeltor's dark, handsome face as he pinned her to the ground beneath his scarred, muscular form.

Despite herself, she felt a heat between her legs, and there was moisture there also. Zeltor smirked, feeling this as he brusquely cupped her sex, testing it as his stiff, throbbing monster of a cock twitched in excitement for penetration.

"You enjoyed that, eh?" he said. "You're starting to learn, then. A women who tries to oppose a man is either stupid or scum. It's against nature, and your body knows this. Your cunt knows to get wet when a man shoves his dick in your face. Your nipples know to get hard when a man claims you, marks you, and puts you in your place."

His cockhead sandwiched itself between Aela's plump thighs. Dimly, the woman wondered when the armor had been stripped from her legs.

The crowd roared in the stands, booing and jeering as Zeltor mounted Aela and lined himself up with her sex. Whether the bile of the masses was aimed more at the victorious defending champion or at the defeated challenger could not be said. Doubtless some people had lost very good money betting on Aela, or against Zeltor. Many cursed both combatants.

But more cheered, simply excited for the climax of the fight.

Eadwine, Aela's husband, was shouting at the organizers with a very red face. Fat and richly dressed, he roared that the match was over and demanded they call Zeltor off of his wife. But the officials were indifferent, and Eadwine's efforts vain.

Distantly, as though it were happening to someone else, Aela became aware that Zeltor was raping her.

"You're weak and stupid, but you've at least got a nice figure," ran his words as he thrust his cock into her. "No matter how much you try, a woman like you can never beat a real man. Not a man like me."

He clove her nether lips with his thick, scarred phallus. The girth of it stretched her cunt to the brink of unbearable pain. She had never before taken a cock this big.

Zeltor smacked Aela's ass and fondled her breasts, looking down his nose at her as he fucked her in the dirt under the naked sun, their lewdly colliding forms visible to hundreds of spectators. Aela whimpered and moaned despite herself, and those moans were not wholly of pain or misery. There was a tinge of pleasure unbidden in her voice, and Zeltor caught it with a smirk.

"You're starting to understand. Your rightful place is under me with spread legs and open mouth, taking my cock or sucking me off. That's right. Your body is the property of any man who can take it. Do you get it? _You're_ _my property now._ "

Something in Aela broke at these words. Whether she wished to accept it or not, she knew that there was no law in the land now to protect or avenge her. In seeking revenge for her mother personally, she had ultimately tumbled into the same pitfall as she had.

She had fought Zeltor in the arena, and she had lost. Her life was forfeit; she belonged to him. Gladiators could not be prosecuted for murder if they killed a foe in the arena. In the eyes of the law, Aela had no longer any rights to speak of. Whether she was killed or raped or made a thrall, there was no difference.

Zeltor's cock thrust harder and deeper into her. Aela met his gaze and felt herself burn.

Bitterly, she wept.

Yet at the same time, she could not escape the slowly mounting tingle in her loins, or the stabs of pleasure that began to wear away her resistance. That was more terrible than any pain or humiliation. To enjoy it as he fucked her was more perilous than any number of beatings.

For though her mind loathed him still, her body felt clearly otherwise. She could not say if this was a new feeling, or one that had always lain secretly in her gut, awaiting the day when it could come forth into prominence. But Zeltor was a handsome man either way, and not less so for the scars which marked his body. He was also strong and masterful, and his eyes pierced her in a way that sent shivers up her spine.

"Take it, you bitch!" he grunted, smacking her on the hip and driving his tip up to her cervix. Aela's entire body rocked with the force of his thrusting, and her tits leaped glistening and flush. "This is a man's cock. Can you feel it? You're born a woman because these things need release. You have a cunt only so a strong man can pin you, and fuck you, and pump you full of his seed. You have an ass only so men have something to grab at leisure, and to fuck when they don't want kids. Your body exists for the use of men. To pretend otherwise is to lie."

Aela shivered at his words. They did not anger her anymore. She was not sure how she felt to hear them, save that a small part of her wanted to hear more. Moaning, she bucked her hips, arched her back, and stared blankly into Zeltor's eyes. Her mind was lost in a sea of conflicting emotions, but her body was anchored by solid and undeniable pleasure.

She was enjoying it more and more as he raped her.

Zeltor's cock felt good inside her, once the pain faded, and soon she could scarcely remember why she could have ever _not_ wanted him fucking her cunt. It was delightful, whatever her mind whispered to the contrary. Her body was honest, and her body accepted Zeltor's attentions with glee. Her flesh was eager to be mastered by him, her breasts quivering and squashing when he groped them, her ass stinging and quaking when he slapped it.

And her cunt throbbed, and tingled, and burned and itched andfeltsogoodshecouldjust—

A shudder.

Aela felt like she was dying, her heart raced so quickly, her every breath came gasping and desperate, and her head swam so incoherently in a haze of sensation. Her eyes rolled up and felt ready to pop from her sockets, lids fluttering, mouth gaping, tongue lolling as drool trickled down her chin.

She panted and moaned and writhed beneath Zeltor. He was hard and unyielding, and she felt so small and soft and vulnerable compared to him. She wanted to shelter beneath him, to accept his protection from all the world's dangers. If she was his then he would guard her as his own, and she would be safe in his powerful arms.

Moreover, if she was his, _she would be his_. For its own sake alone that seemed an increasingly worthy reason.

"Yes!" moaned Aela deliriously, no longer able to contain herself. Zeltor's pelvis smote against hers with a wet, meaty sound. His cock stretched her pussy to its breaking point and savagely thumped against the innermost depths of her womanhood. "Ohh, yes! God, fuck me! It's... it's so big, and hard! Nnngh! It feels sooo goooood!❤"

She stared longingly, adoringly up at Zeltor. The more he fucked her the less she remembered of any reason to hate him. She was falling in love—if not with the man himself, then at least certainly with his cock. She craned her head to kiss him, but he did not reciprocate, and continued rather to savagely fuck her.

His dismissal was somehow as thrilling as his attention. With a warbling, keening cry Aela quite suddenly came. It lanced through all her being, the hot and blinding-numbing-tingling-softening flash of pleasure. Her muscles went limp, and she flopped bonelessly beneath Zeltor, her tits leaping and wobbling, her ass thunderously clapping the dirt, her cunt wetly and obscenely squelching with every thrust of his great, throbbing cock.

She had come, but he did not pay any heed. He was not done. _He_ had not yet come, even if she had, and he would not stop until he'd had his own release. Nothing else mattered but his own orgasm. Whether the woman enjoyed it was a secondary concern, at least partly because they always did when he was the one fucking them.

Aela clenched herself and caressed Zeltor's muscular form, her head swimming and numb. Vapidly she smiled up at him, her eyes hollow, her spirit broken beyond recognition. Only a slightest bundle of bitterness remained inside her, a tightly wound ball of loathing for Zeltor and herself that buried itself into the deepest and darkest corners of Aela's mind. Some part of her retreated in dismay at her enjoyment and acceptance of Zeltor's rape.

She kissed his chest subserviently, uncaring to the cries of her friends and family. Rather she hearkened to those who cheered as Zeltor fucked her, and who heaped abuse onto her head that now seemed as good as praise. And she smiled dreamily when she felt Zeltor's cock finally twitch inside her, and when the thick, hot, cornucopious flood of his sperm pumped into her sex.

" _Yessss_ ," Aela hissed, moaning contentedly. "Thank you, master. I want to have your babies."

Zeltor sniffed dismissively, pulling out of Aela.

"Don't get too full of yourself just because I raped you, bitch. I haven't said you're good enough to have my kids."

Aela simpered even as that last knot of pride and self respect withered into bitterness. What remained of her old self and her old feelings was trapped deep within her to fester and rot. She was broken, and she did not protest when Zeltor grabbed her and began to half-drag her from the arena.

She was his slave, now, after all. He had defeated her and raped her and claimed her as his own. That was how it worked, was it not?

Who was Eadwine? Who was Ellea?

All that mattered to Aela now was Zeltor, her master.


End file.
